Mrs Boots

by Deborah Carr

  ‘Excuse me for interrupting your conversation,’ she said, ‘but I heard you mention a cartes de visite. Would you mind telling me which establishment you chose to attend to have it done?’

  She thought the mother seemed a little embarrassed that she’d overheard their conversation, but the younger one, who Florence now assumed to be the daughter, nodded. ‘We went to T. Price and Son at number two Peter Street,’ she said. ‘Mr Price was ever so accommodating, as was his son.’ She smiled. ‘There are so many studios to choose from now, but it’s difficult to know which is the best one to use.’

  ‘It is,’ Florence agreed. She thanked them for their assistance and walked on, thrilled at the prospect of now knowing what she would do for Jesse’s birthday.

  Recalling the pork sausages that her mother wanted her to buy, she set off out of the opposite gate and onto La Rue Trousse Cotillons, turning right for a little way until she reached Mulcaster Street and then left past the back of the Judicial Greffe towards Snow Hill. She was looking forward to the new library opening later; then it dawned on her that by then she would be a married woman and living in Nottingham. The thought made her smile.

  Mr Price was very helpful and booked her in later that afternoon for her studio session. She had enough time to go back to the flat and hand the sausages to her mother, before quickly changing into her favourite summer dress and hat, and hurrying back to Peter Street to have her photograph taken.

  Afterwards, she held the photograph lightly in her hands, surprised at how impressed she was by her own reflection. She had stood next to a table, her right hand resting lightly on the dark wood as she stared straight at the camera. Mr Price had asked her to gaze into the distance, but Florence had wanted it to seem as if she was staring straight into Jesse’s eyes when he gazed at her photograph. She was delighted with the result.

  She addressed an envelope and inserted the photograph into it. Then taking a piece of her writing paper, wrote a note to accompany her gift.

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  25 May 1886

  Mr J Boot

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  Dearest Jesse,

  I hope you are pleased with my small but personal birthday gift for you. I wanted to give you something that you could not buy for yourself, so thought of arranging for a portrait photograph to be taken of me, gazing into your eyes, albeit from a distance.

  Imagine when you look at my image that I am thinking of you, thinking of being with you and sending you all my love.

  One day soon there will be no further need for you to look at my face in a photograph and I cannot wait for that day to come. Until then though, this photograph of me will have to suffice and I hope you like it.

  My love, as ever,

  Florence

  *

  The following week, she received the letter from Jesse that she had been waiting for.

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  2 June 1886

  Miss Florence Rowe

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  Sweetest and most thoughtful Florence,

  You are too clever. I could not have asked for a better present from you and your portrait has now been framed and has pride of place on my desk. I adore being able to look into your eyes whenever I choose. In the few months since last I saw you, you have grown into a more beautiful woman than even you were before. I am so excited that soon I will be able to call you my wife.

  Your portrait makes me smile and reminds me daily of all that happiness that we have to look forward to in our future together. You watch over me from my desk now and I feel closer to you than ever before. I can never feel lonely now I have this picture to remind me of the love we share and that very soon we will constantly be together. I can hardly wait.

  I am beginning to realise that it doesn’t matter what I say, you will do as you see fit in any situation. This time, I am most grateful for your determination to do as you wish and, as I mentioned, was overwhelmed with delight at receiving the splendid photograph of you.

  I can’t believe that I had not thought to ask for a photograph of you before now and feel remiss that I have not had one taken of myself to send to you. I have arranged for a studio sitting in two days’ time so that I may rectify this omission.

  Well, my dearest one, it will not be long now. An hour apart is too long, but the weeks, days and hours tick by and soon, very soon, my love, I will travel back to your jewel of an island and, most delightful of all, to you. I find that I am becoming more impatient with each passing day and long to be married to you.

  Until the next time.

  My love, as ever,

  Jesse

  Chapter 31

  Finally, it was the day before Jesse’s arrival back in Jersey, and Florence could barely think straight. Her mood swung from heightened excitement to nervousness. What if he met her again and decided that she wasn’t how he remembered her? What if they had no conversation when they were together again? What if her father didn’t stand by his word and grant Jesse permission to marry her? What if Jesse decided not to ask for her hand? So many what ifs.

  She could hear Lily chatting to Amy as they walked from the storeroom back to the front of the shop, just as the brass bell above the front door announced someone’s arrival.

  Florence looked up to see who was entering, a smile already on her face. The man stopped walking, his hand still on the door handle as he stared at her. She heard a gasp behind her and it took a moment for Florence to realise that this scowling person standing in front of her was Lily’s father.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she unscrambled her wits and walked over to him. If he was going to cause trouble for Lily, she would insist on him listening to her first. After all, she had been the one to persuade Lily to come and work at W. H. Rowe, so if anyone was to be shouted at, it would be her.

  ‘Mr Buttons,’ she said, her smile fixed on her face as she went to greet him. ‘Please, come in.’ The last thing her father would want was trouble on his doorstep where the neighbouring shops and their customers could hear. She was grateful that no other customers were presently in the shop. ‘Have you come to see Lily?’

  ‘Dad?’ Lily said, her voice timid. ‘You’re—’

  ‘Yes,’ he interrupted, ‘they’ve let me out.’

  ‘Dad, please don’t be cross.’ Her voice was low, as she hurried to pacify him. ‘The Misses Rowe have been very kind to me.’

  Florence tensed and could sense Amy doing the same as she came to stand next to her. She wondered if together the two of them could defend Lily should her father have come here to admonish her for working at the shop without his permission or knowledge. Without looking at Amy she knew that her sister was staring at the man and preparing to defend their assistant.

  ‘Mr Buttons,’ Florence began, ‘Lily …’

  He took his cap off and held it tightly in his hands, wringing it between them slightly. ‘Please, Misses Rowe. I ain’t come ’ere to cause trouble for my girl.’

  Florence stared at Lily, whose mouth fell open at his unexpected words.

  ‘My wife tells me that you give ’er a job and she’s done well.’ He looked Lily up and down, taking in her smart appearance, her hair neatly tied in at ribbon that Amy had given her recently. ‘She looks right grown up and I’m told she’s supported my family when I ’aven’t bin ’ere to do so.’

  ‘I only wanted to do something to help, Dad,’ Lily said, a quaver in her voice as she spoke.

  Florence was sorry to see that Lily’s confidence gained over the last few months working at the shop had almost evaporated. How easily her father’s presence had diminished the girl and that was when he was being pleasant. She couldn’t stand by and not try to boost her in some way.

  Florence stepped forward. ‘Lily has worked hard and been an asset to the shop,’ she said, bracing herself �
� for what, she wasn’t sure. ‘My father is very pleased with how much she’s learnt and how reliable she is. We hope you are happy with her working here. We would hate for her to leave us.’

  Florence waited for him to mull over her words. She hated to think of all Lily’s hard work and time settling in at W. H. Rowe to go to waste. She also hoped that Mr Buttons would not expect her to leave, especially so near to Jesse’s return and her hoped for departure.

  ‘Oh, Miss,’ he said, stepping forward so that they were almost toe-to-toe, ‘I ain’t come to cause no bother. Mrs Buttons told me all about Lily working ’ere and that she would ’ave no trouble caused for her by me.’ He shrugged. ‘Not that I was goin’ to cause trouble.’ He turned his head to look at Lily, who was staring at him, her mouth agape. ‘I’m proud of my girl. Truly, an’ I want her to keep workin’ ’ere for as long as she can.’

  ‘You do?’ Amy grabbed Florence’s arm. ‘Why that’s wonderful, isn’t it, Lily?’

  Lily gave a little cry and immediately covered her mouth with her right hand. Recovering slightly, she finally gave a high-pitched, ‘Yes, it is.’

  Florence’s throat tightened. The relief that Lily’s father now knew of her employment with W. H. Rowe and had seen her smart dress, and hadn’t minded at all, was massive for her and, she knew, for Lily, too.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Buttons.’ She wasn’t sure what to say next.

  He placed his cap back on his head and went to leave, stopping as soon as he had opened the shop door. ‘I’ll leave you be. I don’t wish to intrude on your day.’ He scrutinised Lily for a few seconds. ‘I’ll see you back ’ome later then.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  The three women watched him leave and stood in silence as they watched him walk down Queen Street.

  ‘You must be very relieved, Lily, that your father was happy for you to stay working here,’ Amy said. ‘I know we are.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  Florence noticed Lily was trembling and realised, not for the first time, how lucky she was not only to have such a reasonable father, but also that Jesse was such a kind man, too. How difficult must it be to live in fear of a man every day of your life?

  *

  The following day finally arrived. Florence gazed at herself in her bedroom mirror. She had wanted to look her very best for Jesse’s arrival, but three nights with barely any sleep had taken their toll on her skin. She appeared peaky and sallow, and the dark circles under her eyes added nothing to her looks.

  ‘Damn.’ She pinched her cheeks to try and give them a bit of colour, but only succeeded in pinching too hard and looking as if she had hurt herself.

  She gazed at the new cotton dress with fine lace cuffs and collar that she had had made specially to wear to greet Jesse and hoped that by the time she had changed into it she might look a little less peaky. She went down to the shop to work, needing to keep her mind busy.

  An hour later her father called her over to him. ‘I want you to take this message to the minister at chapel. He’s expecting it.’

  ‘Can’t Amy or Lily go?’ She knew how much the minister liked to chat and always found it difficult to find a way to end a conversation with him. The last thing she needed today was to be late back home and not have time to change to go and meet Jesse off the mailboat.

  ‘No. You need something to take your mind off Mr Boot’s arrival. You’ve been fidgety all morning and it’s getting a little tiresome for the rest of us.’

  Florence doubted her sister or Lily were bothered, but knew how much her father disliked it when she wasn’t focused on her work.

  ‘Yes, Father,’ she said, taking the note and fetching her hat. ‘You will recall that I’ll need to leave early today to change before going and meeting Jesse from the mailboat, don’t you?’

  ‘How could I possibly forget,’ he sighed. ‘Now, go.’

  She walked out of the shop, stopping to chat briefly to Albert who was standing in the doorway next door, before retracing her steps to the opposite corner where Queen Street met Halkett Place. She turned right and walked hurriedly all the way down to the end before crossing over Burrard Street. She was stopped at the other side of the road by one of her father’s regular customers to answer a question about an order the woman had made and then continued past Grove Place where her family had once lived to the Methodist church where they still worshipped.

  The whole time she was thinking about what she would say to Jesse when he first stepped off the boat. She walked up the wide steps and into the left of the two enormous double doors to find the minister waiting for her.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m late,’ she said, disliking it when she wasn’t punctual. ‘I was stopped on my way by one of father’s customers who had a query about an order.’

  ‘No matter,’ he said, waving away her concern with his hand. ‘You have a message for me?’ She nodded and handed him the note. ‘Good. Now you must come and take tea with me. I have a few things I wish to discuss with you.’

  She had feared this might happen, but hid her concern and tried to look as cheerful as she could manage as she went with him into the vestry.

  An hour and a half later, Florence finally left the church and was walking along Grove Place when she observed the tall mast standing over Fort Regent and noticed the signals. Seeing the flags announcing that the mailboat was approaching La Corbière, her heart pounded to know that Jesse’s boat would be docking in about one hour. She had to rush home to freshen up and change into her new dress, if she was to arrive at the harbour in a calm manner to await his arrival. She could not bear to be late to see him having waited so many months for the moment to finally arrive.

  Chapter 32

  Florence hurried down Mulcaster Street, arriving at Victoria Pier with moments to spare. She had seen the two masts of the steamer, Laura, as she reached Weighbridge, and for a moment had thought that she was too late. She noticed with relief that the ship was docking and that she had time to gather herself before Jesse would be able to disembark.

  Her stomach fluttered anxiously. Over the past months she only had the photograph he had sent of himself to look at whenever she was in her bedroom. And she worried that she had forgotten the sound of his voice, his accent that she had loved to hear as he spoke and the twinkle in his hazel eyes that wasn’t obvious in the photograph.

  She hoped that when he saw her again, he wouldn’t be disappointed in any way. They might have become much closer through their months of correspondence, but she couldn’t help worrying that maybe one or both of them might have built the other up in their mind’s eye somewhat. What if either of them were disappointed by the other? The thought terrified her.

  Florence was so lost in thought that she had missed the passengers walking along the harbour towards her and others waiting to meet people. She scanned the people making their way from the boat and, unable to see Jesse, panic welled up inside her. She focused on the people around her, wondering if maybe he had not recognised her and walked past. She tried to quell her increasing nerves, when a voice that she recognised only too well spoke behind her.

  ‘Dearest Florence, I can’t believe the time has finally arrived when I am in your company once more.’

  She spun around to face him, a wide smile already on her face. ‘Jesse,’ she said, her throat constricted by emotion, ‘you’re here.’

  She stared at him in awe. It was hard to imagine that he was finally here. Florence reached out and placed her right hand lightly against his cheek, the side of his moustache tickled her hand. ‘You are real.’

  He took her hand from his face and kissed her palm lightly. ‘I am and this time I will not be leaving without you.’

  Any anxiety about seeing him again, or concern that his feelings towards her, or hers to him had changed, vanished.

  ‘Good,’ she said, knowing that she had been right to wait for him. He was the man she remembered. She might know him better through his letters now, but he was still the Jesse she had fa
llen in love with.

  ‘Where are your bags?’ she asked gazing around him.

  ‘They are being delivered to my hotel room. I’ve booked in at the same hotel as last time. They treat me well there and I find the rooms very comfortable. I also like to be able to see the harbour from my bedroom window and they assured me that I shall have a room overlooking the water again this time.’

  ‘I’ll accompany you there then.’

  He took her hand and linked his arm around hers. It felt right to be with him again.

  They began walking. Florence noticed several acquaintances giving her inquisitive stares as they passed.

  ‘We’ll be the talk of the town now we’ve been seen together like this,’ she laughed.

  ‘We have much to do,’ he said. ‘I thought I would visit your parents this evening, if they are happy for me to do so, and then tomorrow, or maybe the next day, I shall approach your father again to ask for your hand.’

  The mention of his approach to her father sparked off Florence’s nerves once more. Could she rely on her father to stick to his word and accept Jesse’s offer? She hoped so. Florence loved and trusted her father; he was an honourable man, after all. However, she had assumed he would accept Jesse’s request the previous year and look what had happened then. She took a calming breath. She would be positive. They would find a way to be together this time. She would not stand for anything less and, she guessed, neither would Jesse.

  They arrived at the Pomme d’Or Hotel.

  ‘Shall we take tea?’ he asked, as a porter walked up to greet them.

  ‘Yes, that would be most welcome.’ It was hot outside and Florence realised that now she was in the cool of the reception, her throat was parched. She was feeling the effects of too little sleep and too much excitement.

  ‘We’ll find you somewhere to sit and then I can go and check in and arrange for some tea and biscuits to be brought to us. Or, would you rather sandwiches? You must be hungry by now?’